The Wizards' Convention
by CountRocco
Summary: The Doctor and his companions find themselves in an ancient kingdom where magic is apparently real, and all the wizards of the land are gathering for a first-of-its-kind convention to reveal who is the greatest of them all. The Doctor unintentionally involves himself, soon seen as a wizard to be reckoned with. But the powers behind the convention have their own deadly agenda.


The timespace ship, the Tardis, materialised, the lamp on the top dimly illuminating the castle's courtyard. The ship's outward shape of a mid-twentieth-century British Police call box faded in to the inky black night. The guards on the castle walls, who a moment before had been discussing the previous day's jousting tournament in their nightly effort to stay awake on watch, were startled into action; their armour and chain mail rattled as they ran to meet what they could only assume to be a magical apparition.

Inside the Tardis, the ageing Doctor stood at the hexagonal console at the centre of the control room. He was dressed in his usual monochromatic outfit of a black frock coat, grey checked trousers, waistcoat, tie and black shoes; he never seemed to change these clothes and yet they were always clean. His flowing silver hair was neatly brushed back. "We have landed," he announced.

Susan, the Doctor's teenage granddaughter, dressed in more trendy 1960s garb, Ian, wearing conservative trousers, shirt and cardigan, and Barbara, clad in a white shirt and black leggings, stood near him.

"Any idea where, Doctor?" Ian said.

"If my calculations are correct, or rather if the Tardis navigational systems have functioned properly, we should be back at Totters Yard," the Doctor said.

Ian rolled his eyes. "And if they aren't, or rather if they haven't?"

The Doctor smiled cheerfully. "Then we might be practically anywhere, my boy! Let's have a look, shall we?" he said as he operated the scanner control.

The Tardis scanner display, a simple television monitor mounted near the ceiling in a corner, powered up, displaying only blackness.

"What is that? Outer space?" Susan asked.

"If so, Susan, why are there no stars?" Barbara said.

"It's probably night outside," Ian said. "Can the scanner show us infrared?"

"Of course it can, infrared, ultraviolet, x-ray, anything you like," said the Doctor. He turned a dial on the console. The monitor adjusted to show an image, then immediately cut out. The knob the Doctor had turned flew up in a shower of sparks and bounced off the ceiling. Ian caught it in his hand.

"A convincing demonstration Doctor," Ian said, laughing.

"Give me that, young man." Frowning angrily, the Doctor grabbed the knob from Ian. "Oh, I know you like to jeer at me, Chesterton, but I work very hard to keep this ship running properly, and I would like to see you do it half as well. It's in better condition than when I… er… acquired it, I'll have you know."

"Running properly," Ian sneered. "I seem to remember this ship nearly killing us all when a simple switch was stuck. Which used spaceship dealer did you 'acquire' it from, just so I know to avoid him in future? Or would that be in the past?"

"Ian, please," said Barbara, "the Doctor is trying to get us home, aren't you Doctor?"

The Doctor shook his head. "You _are _home, my dear. Outside those doors is the scrapyard where we first met."

"Maybe," Ian said. "Or maybe it's some bug-eyed creature waiting to blast away at us."

"Leave Grandfather alone," Susan said. "Why can't you stop fighting? Don't we all have to pull together? I trust you, Grandfather. Open the doors. I'll go out there right now." Susan reached over to operate the door control, but the Doctor stopped her.

"Well, Susan, perhaps I should mend the scanner first."

Ian laughed. "You see, Susan? He won't let you go out. He's obviously none too confident about where we are."

"I've had just about enough of your insolence, Chesterfield," the Doctor roared. "Of course we must be cautious if the scanner is malfunctioning. It's only common sense."

Susan opened the doors while the Doctor was shouting at Ian. "Look out there. It's only night time. That's why the scanner didn't show anything." She began to walk through the door.

"Just a moment, Susan," Ian said as he sighed deeply. "Let me go first."

Ian stepped out of the door and into the night. "There's grass under my feet. But I can't see anything. There are no lights of any kind."

The Doctor faced away from the door, hands on his lapels, brow furrowed, mouth set in stone.

Susan went out to join Ian. "It's so dark. It's rather frightening," she murmured.

The Doctor, noticing Susan's voice coming from outside the Tardis, said, "Susan, come back into the ship."

"But Grandfather, we're only in a field. Maybe it's a football pitch."

"Susan!" The Doctor waited. "Oh, why doesn't that child do as she's told?" The Doctor went to join Susan outside.

Barbara, noticing she was alone in the Tardis, also went outside

As the soldiers, armed with crossbows, swords and an oil lamp, arrived at the Tardis, they levelled their weapons at the travellers. "Don't move," one of them said.

"Fantastic," Ian sighed as he raised his hands. "What should we say, Doctor? Take us to your leader?"

The apparent captain of the party of soldiers levelled his crossbow at Ian. "Invaders are not normally taken to see the King in the middle of the night," the captain of the guard said. "They're normally thrown in the dungeon. Understand?"

In the dim lamplight, it could be seen that the guards were dressed in leather armour and chain-mail, with metal helmets. "_You _don't understand, my dear lieutenant," the Doctor said. "We are merely travellers. A little while and we'll be gone."

"I'm afraid you won't be going anywhere. Come on." The guards guided them away from the Tardis. They shuffled past various features of the castle's inner courtyard. The Doctor noticed that it all appeared new – no moss, no damage – and that the yard itself was enormous.

"I say, I don't know how you chaps manage to find your way around in the darkness like this," the Doctor said.

"It's not so hard when you live here," the captain of the guard replied.

The Doctor, unsure of where he had brought his companions, probed for information: "Live in this, er, castle, do you?"

"Yes."

"Ah, yes. So we are approaching the castle from the … west."

"The magic which guided you here in the blue box did not inform you very well. You are not approaching from any direction. You are inside, in the courtyard."

"Of course we are," the Doctor said. "And what might your name be, my good fellow?"

"I am Captain Beale, of the King's guards."

"I am pleased to make your acquaintance."

"And I yours. But you are my prisoner. Please be silent now."

After a long walk, they went through a thick wooden door and down a flight of stairs. The dungeon comprised a guardroom, furnished with a table, two chairs and a lamp, and a corridor through which was a block of cells. The soldier in the guardroom stood to attention and raised his crossbow when his Captain entered.

"Prisoners for you, Bors. See to their needs." Captain Beale turned and departed, leaving three of his men behind.

"Yes sir." Bors led the party down the cellblock. As they passed some of the other cells, snoring could be heard. Bors opened a door. "Prisoners, in here." The Doctor went first followed by Susan and Barbara, with Ian hesitating, weighing up the possibility of escaping without getting a crossbow bolt in the back. He decided that it would be futile, and stepped into the cell.

The cell was pitch dark inside, and Bors shut the door, which allowed only a faint smear of light through the barred grate at eye level.

Each one felt the darkness close in on them as they heard the guards retreat down the corridor, but none more than Susan. "Grandfather?"

"Yes, child?"

"Ian? Barbara?"

"We're here, Susan," Ian said.

Barbara groped in the darkness, knocking her shin on something wooden before finding Susan. Susan clasped Barbara's hand. "Why does it have to be so dark? And quiet?"

"I don't know, Susan," Barbara said. "I admit, I'm rather nervous in this darkness as well. I wonder what's going to happen to us?"

Something clattered. "What's that?" Susan screamed.

"Ow," Ian shouted. "That was me. Sorry. Barbaric, this, shoving us into this cell without so much as a candle."

"It could get much worse than this my boy," the Doctor said. "At least we can behold the darkness. Hold on to that!"

Footsteps approached. "Step back from the door." The four prisoners obeyed. The door was unlocked, and Bors stepped in with an oil lamp. "Apologies. The lamp on the wall is broken." He set the lamp on the floor, and closed the door again.

In the new light their surroundings were clearly visible. A broken oil lamp was indeed mounted on the wall. There was a wooden bunk bed, a small table and two chairs, one of which had fallen on its side when Ian tripped over it. The walls, floor and ceiling were clean and smoother than one might expect.

"Not the Ritz," Ian said, "but homey enough for a mediaeval dungeon."

"Pre-mediaeval, I should think," Barbara said.

"Very good, Miss Wright," the Doctor said. "I think so as well. Now, what else can we surmise from our surroundings, hmm?"

"It's a dungeon, Doctor," Ian said, slumping onto a chair. "Surely when you've seen one you've seen them all… though this one is surprisingly comfortable."

"Exactly, young man. It is furnished and it's clean, suggesting a concern for the welfare of prisoners who may not be guilty of any crime." The Doctor bore himself like a barrister now, giving vital evidence. "Don't sit down in my presence, Chesterton."

"I'm tired and annoyed, Doctor, and –"

The Doctor gestured for Ian to stand up. "Come along, my dear boy, humour me."

Ian stood up wearily.

"Do you notice anything?"

Ian shook his head.

"How tall are you, Chesterton?"

"What is this, Doctor? So what if I'm tall, what is your point?" Realisation came over Ian's features. "I can stand upright! When I've taken tours of old dungeons in the twentieth century, I've always had to crouch."

"And why is that?" the Doctor prodded.

Susan answered, "It's because the people were always malnourished."

"Of course," Barbara said. "There must be lots of people as tall as Ian around here. Which means …"

"Which means," the Doctor said, "that the King doesn't keep all the best food for himself. There is charity in this kingdom." The Doctor began counting on his fingers. "How many cells are there in this block?" The Doctor gave the others about one second to puzzle over this question. "I counted ten. Ten cells in the castle."

"There may be more cell blocks," Barbara said.

"The guard referred to this as 'the dungeon', not dungeon number one," the Doctor continued, gathering speed. "And this is a large castle, as we could see clearly – even in the dark – from how long it took us to walk here."

"There may be a formal gaol house outside, in the village," Barbara said.

"Perhaps, perhaps, but nevertheless… how many of these cells are inhabited?"

"There was snoring coming from three of them," Susan said. "I couldn't help but notice them, I was so frightened. But I'm not so frightened now."

"Four out of ten cells have prisoners," the Doctor went on. "Not much crime. Probably no political enemies. And if the kingdom were at war with anyone, these cells would be bursting at the seams. And, Susan, how old is this castle?"

Barbara answered, "As I said, it's pre-mediaeval, judging from—"

"If I had wanted the historical perspective I would have asked you, Barbara. How old is it _now_, Susan?"

Susan visibly thought. "Well, I would say from the cleanliness and tidiness of the little we've been able to see so far, I would say…" She looked at the others, who were all watching her expectantly. "… it's very new. Purpose-built maybe, for the present occupiers."

Ian snapped his fingers. "Something else: when we were shown to the dungeon, it was just that – we were simply shown here. At gunpoint, yes, but in our travels with you, Doctor, I've got rather accustomed to being pushed, punched, jabbed and shot at for no reason. Not that I miss it, you understand, but these guards were perfect gentlemen. The gaoler even apologised for the broken lamp."

"What does it all add up to, Grandfather?" Susan said.

"It tells us that we have arrived in a very enlightened kingdom," the Doctor said with a grin.

Barbara twisted a lock of her hair whilst looking absently at the floor. "I don't know of any English kingdom that fits all the data. I have more than a passing knowledge of castles, and I don't think this one fits with any still standing by my time, though I'm not an authority on them."

"Well I am, I assure you, my dear. And you are quite correct – this is unknown to modern archaeology. This castle will be utterly destroyed long before the twentieth century." The Doctor smiled and suppressed a laugh. He eyed up the bunk beds, and chose the lower. "I think it's time to go to sleep now." He lay down on the bed.

"Just a minute," Ian said, "don't you think the women should have the beds?"

"Really, Chesterfield, surely due to my great age I should be allowed to lie down?" The Doctor put his head down and tried to get comfortable.

"Of course you can't make Grandfather sleep in the chair. I'm the youngest. I'll sleep in the chair." Susan settled down on the chair.

Barbara sat on the other chair. "All right, we women will sleep down here."

"Oh no you don't, Barbara," Ian said. "You'll take the top bunk."

"Well, if you insist," Barbara said, smiling. Ian smiled back at her as she climbed up onto the bed.

Ian sat on the empty chair and turned down the lamp. "All right Doctor," Ian said. "Just where are we then?"

"Come now my boy, how could I know any better than you?" The Doctor chuckled to himself.

There was the sound of a key in the lock, and the door opened. "I think I'd better put the women in another cell," the gaoler said. "Come with me, ladies."

"I would rather stay here with my Grandfather," Susan said.

"Please, miss," the gaoler said, "you'll be much more comfortable."

"Go on, Susan," the Doctor said. "Remember what we've just been talking about. You'll be quite safe, my child."

Barbara jumped down from the top bunk and Susan arose from her chair. "Doctor, are you sure?" Barbara said, looking back at him.

"Go on, my dear, don't worry about a thing."

Barbara put her arm around Susan and they followed the gaoler. The door shut behind them.

"Doctor, do you think that was wise?" Ian said. "What if that man … well, he could do anything to them."

"Nonsense, my boy. These people are entirely civilised."

"Are you sure about that? For all their good manners and tidiness, they have thrown us in the dungeon and threatened us with weapons."

The Doctor was silent for a moment as he considered this. He got out of bed and went to the door. Turning back to Ian, he said, "Listen for any sound that might indicate they're in danger."

Ian joined the Doctor at the door. He noticed that the Doctor was holding a strange device in his hand. "What can we do about it?" Ian said, eyeing up the new gadget.

"Well, er, I didn't mention it before, but …" The Doctor was visibly tense. He brandished his new device.

"Do you mean to tell me you could have opened the door at any time? With that?"

"Not exactly at any time; we would have to deal with the gaoler, you know." The Doctor shouted, "Susan! Are you all right?"

"Yes, Grandfather," Susan shouted back. "Don't worry, go to sleep."

The Doctor smiled as his mien instantly relaxed. "There now, you see? Completely civilised. Now will you please let an old man get some sleep?" He went back to bed without another word.

Ian laughed to himself as he climbed into the bunk vacated by Barbara. "Good night, Doctor."

The Doctor grunted.

In the morning, the gaoler noisily opened the door. The Doctor was seated in a chair, reading a paperback book by the lamplight. Ian woke abruptly at the sound and rubbed his eyes.

"Time to get up. The King wants to see you," the gaoler said.

"Splendid," said the Doctor, closing his book and standing up.

"Splendid," Ian repeated through a yawn, "but couldn't he wait a little while?"

"I don't know where you're from, but around here you don't keep kings waiting. Up, now."

"Quite right, Chesterton. Up, now!"

Susan and Barbara were standing in the corridor behind the gaoler, also yawning.

The Doctor put his book into his coat pocket as he walked past the gaoler. "Come along." He led the others into the guardroom, and gestured to the gaoler to unlock the door. "On second thought, why don't you lead the way, young man?" The Doctor smiled. "After all, we don't know where we're going."

The gaoler led them through the corridors, the Doctor memorising every twist and turn to the throne room. Within was a throne which somehow existed halfway between pomp and modesty.

On the throne sat the King, existing firmly on the side of confident authority. He was in textbook physical condition, well muscled, flawlessly attractive, with a thick, but not overgrown, beard. He wore a tunic, embroidered with his coat of arms on the front and back. Even seated on his throne, his fine broadsword was by his side.

"So, you are our invaders," the King said. He pointed to the Doctor. "You appear to me as a man of wisdom rather than of arms. You all appear so, but you especially …"

"Doctor, your majesty." The Doctor genuflected.

"Doctor! A man of wisdom indeed. And the names of your companions?"

The Doctor gestured to each one in turn. "Ian Chesterton, Barbara Wright, Susan Foreman."

"Ian, you hail from Chester town?"

Ian smiled as he bowed. "No, your majesty. London."

"Lady Barbara, what has your family wrought? Wood? Iron?"

"Well, a long time ago, both," Barbara said with as much of a curtsey as can be done while wearing leggings. "Your majesty."

"And lady Susan, you have the charge of your friends?"

"No, your majesty, I am the least of all." Susan awkwardly mimicked Barbara's curtsey.

"In stature, perhaps, but you also are wise, after your own manner." The King stood up regally, with the poise of a legend. "You invade my castle, all learned persons, though each of you has the humility of a novice. You, good Doctor, carry yourself with pride, but you do me obeisance nevertheless." He gestured to a table laden with fruit, bread, sliced meats, eggs, other foods, orange and apple juice, and beer. "I would that you would break the fast with me."

"Your majesty," the Doctor said, "we would be honoured."

"I am sure you are all famished," the King said. "Take your fill."

The travellers seated themselves at the table, and the King at its head.

Ian eyed up the beer. "I've never had beer for breakfast. What gives?"

"They have no reliable way to purify water," Barbara said.

"Of course," Ian said, "the alcohol kills germs."

"Quite right, my boy. Although all they know is that it doesn't make them ill. Paradoxically, it probably would make us ill, with its much higher alcohol content than that to which we are accustomed. These people will be used to it, having drunk it since childhood, but we had better stick to the fruit juice."

They filled their plates and began eating.

A man flung open the door of the throne room. His stature and fairly long white hair were similar to the Doctor's, but his unkempt appearance was all his own. He wore a grey cassock, which might have been dirty or clean – the colour was such that it would be difficult to tell. The little man wore a loose necklace of cubic crystals, his fingers were adorned with several large dull metal rings, and his face sported several days' growth of beard.

"Is this old man the great wizard of which the guards told me?" the new arrival blustered.

"He is," the King said. "Since you are here, you may as well sit down and eat with him."

"And who might you be?" the Doctor said, as if he already knew the answer.

"I must take them to my workshop and question … interrogate them." The robed character briskly approached the Doctor to stand scant inches from him, and looked him over carefully.

"I am questioning them," the King said.

"You will know nothing about their magic," the shabby man said. "I can learn much more from them than you can."

"I am learning from them already. I know something of magic also, having spent a lifetime with you."

"So, the court magician, are you?" the Doctor said. "Show us a trick."

The little man boiled over with rage. "A trick!?" he screamed. "Who do you think you are to demand 'a trick' of me?" He began to pace rapidly around the room. "You show us a trick, wizard!"

"Oh," said the Doctor, momentarily at a loss. "Very well. Do any of you have a wristwatch?"

"Doctor, think of the time," Ian said. Barbara and Susan smiled.

The Doctor laughed. "Oh, of course you won't have a wristwatch. Never mind. Here, look at this." He fumbled in his pockets and found a small torch. He switched it on and said, "Look, I've captured the sun. Not impressed? Oh, er … Susan, do you happen to have that transistor radio I modified for you?"

Susan produced a small radio from her pocket. The Doctor took it. "Observe, your majesty, I can capture other things as well. This tiny plastic box will amaze you!" The Doctor made repeated passes over the radio with his hand, moving the volume control slightly each time. Soon, faint music could be heard. Everyone in the room looked around, trying to trace the dim sound. As it grew louder, the Doctor moved around the room, letting each person hear the source of the music. The Doctor stopped, turned off the radio, and bowed to his audience.

Everyone clapped, except the wizened magician. The Doctor palmed the batteries before handing the radio to Arthur for examination.

"Very impressive, Doctor," Merlin said with a mocking glare.

"Now it's your turn," the Doctor said. "Please." He deferred to the magician with a sweeping gesture.

"You think your cheap tricks earn you a performance? Think again." Looking at the King, the bedraggled magician said, "These foreigners are not to be trusted. Expel them at once, or I foresee you will have cause for regret. Narrowing his gaze on the Doctor, he said, "Indeed, we all shall." The shabby sorcerer left the room.

"Without so much as a 'by your leave'," the Doctor said. "You surprise me, your Majesty."

"He was a mentor and a father to me, who had neither. His respect is implicit."

The Doctor was smiling as enigmatically as he could.

"What is it Doctor?" Ian said. "You know exactly what's going on here, don't you? The children in my class look just as smug as you do when they think they know something and don't want to tell."

The Doctor crossed his arms, frowned, and turned in his chair to face away from Ian.

Susan's face suddenly brightened. "I know! We're in Camelot!" She beamed at the others. "Isn't that right Grandfather?" The Doctor sighed and looked even more sullen.

Forgetting about his breakfast, the King stared at them in disbelief.

Barbara laughed haltingly. "Impossible. Camelot and the Knights of the Round Table – well, it's a legend, a myth …" She threw her hands in the air, frustrated.

"Come on, Barbara," Ian said, "there's some truth in every legend."

"Some truth, maybe, but if we're to believe Susan …" Barbara found herself at a loss.

The Doctor cleared his throat and sighed again, heavily. He inclined his head downward in defeated humility. "Your majesty, please would you tell us you name?"

The King leaned forward in his chair and looked at each of his guests in turn. He took a bite of bread, and followed it with a draught of beer. "How is it that you can break into my castle, and not even know who I am? You speak like Englishmen. Am I not your King?"

The Doctor raised his head, and spoke with renewed authority. "You are King Arthur, son of Uther Pendragon, King of England." He paused to allow his words to sink in. "Apologies, your majesty. We were in some doubt as to where we had landed – er, put down – put in. And no, we are not your subjects. Mr, er, Merlin was right, we are foreigners. We simply all have a … gift for languages."

"Very well, Doctor," Arthur said. "Why then have you invaded Camelot? And why with so small a force? And from where hail you?"

The Doctor sat down and smiled at Arthur. "As you know very well, your majesty," the Doctor said with a twinkle in his eye, "we are certainly not an invasion force, nor even an advance party. We are simply a group of travellers with no country, no fixed abode."

"And your magic," Arthur said.

"Yes, well, one needs some way to earn one's keep as he goes from place to place. I just know a few basic tricks, really."

"Doctor," Arthur said, "your manner of bottling light and music were most extraordinary. Merlin was impressed."

"He did mock, your majesty."

"Purely out of frustration that he could not determine your method. And have you alighted in Camelot for Merlin's Wizards' Convention?"

"Hmm? Oh, yes, of course. The Wizards' Convention! We're not late, are we?"

"It begins in two days' time." Arthur put his hands on the table. "Doctor, whatever Merlin may say, I perceive that you and your friends are also my friends. I wish you to remain in Camelot until the Convention is ended. You shall lodge in my finest suites. This will make amends for having compelled you to spend the night in my dungeon."

The Doctor bowed his head deferentially. "I accept, providing that my associates are happy with this arrangement." The Doctor looked around the table and each of the members of his party nodded with enthusiasm. "Yes, that will be a most excellent state of affairs. Thank you, your majesty."

They continued with their breakfast until they had all had their fill. Then Arthur instructed Bors, the guard, to escort the travellers to their rooms.

"This way," Bors said.

After they had walked a little, Ian said, "Listen Bors, aren't you going to apologise or something for putting us in the dungeon?"

"Apologise? For doing my duty?" Bors said. "Consider how you arrived, in the dead of night, by magic, with no advance notice. These things don't just happen every Wednesday. I have the security of my King, his castle, and my own family to think about."

"I take your point," Ian said. "No harm done, anyway, and no hard feelings, from me at least."

"Good. Anyway, you were comfortable, weren't you? And the King had you to breakfast, so you've done alright out of it." Bors led the others round corners and along more corridors.

"How did you do that trick with the radio?" Barbara said quietly to the Doctor.

"What trick? You know how a radio works, don't you?" the Doctor said.

"I don't; not hundreds of years before there are any stations broadcasting."

"My ship's communications equipment does not suffer from such primitive limitations. How else could my people contact me if they needed me?"

"You mean the Tardis was acting as a substation for Susan's radio?" Barbara said.

The Doctor smiled. "You really can be quite insightful at times."

"Thank you, Doctor," Barbara said. "So can you."

They were now in a ground-floor passageway with windows lining one wall. Warm summer sunlight flooded in, illuminating the tapestries lining the other wall. The travellers admired the works of art as they moved along the tiled marble floor.

"Grandfather, do you feel a chill?" Susan said.

"No." The Doctor shuddered. "Why, yes, actually." The Doctor looked outside at the hot sun-drenched courtyard, noting some people riding horses, others sitting under a shady tree.

"I must say, I'm rather hot," Ian said, unbuttoning his sleeves.

Instinct and experience of expecting the unexpected caused the travellers to notice the floor underfoot flickering, almost as if its solidity was only a television image with signal interference.

The ground beneath their feet disappeared. One moment it was there, the next it was gone, leaving a cracked and stony edge around a gaping hole where the floor had been.

The Doctor's hands found a tapestry, and held on to it with grim determination. Barbara and Bors had grasped other tapestries, and Ian and Susan's fingers found purchase on the window sills while their legs dangled into the void.

Below was a rough-edged chasm. Its indistinct edges formed a blue halo, and far below a blue fog obscured the bottom of the pit. Air was being sucked down, pulling at the victims like a monstrous vacuum cleaner.

"I don't think I can hold on for much longer," the Doctor said as his fingers slipped slightly. "I'm getting to old for this sort of thing," he grumbled as he looked for some way out.


End file.
